


As I Might Love

by Merlot_Hyacinth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Heaven vs Hell, Heaven wins, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22806667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlot_Hyacinth/pseuds/Merlot_Hyacinth
Summary: For a moment, all was still. The dust stirred up from death's departure had just begun to settle. Crowley felt his heart slowly begin to ease it's frantic thrumming and he released a deep sigh, the corners of his mouth daring to raise ever so slightly. Even without Aziraphale, the horsemen had been defeated and the missile strike called off thanks to this odd group of scrappy children, a witch, and a witch finder.Crisis averted......right?Wrong. Dead wrong in fact.A Good Omens AU where Azirpahale couldn't return to aid Crowley and the fight against the apocalypse.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Crisis (nearly) Averted

For a moment, all was still. The dust stirred up from death’s departure had just begun to settle. Crowley felt his heart slowly begin to ease it’s frantic thrumming and he released a deep sigh, the corners of his mouth daring to raise ever so slightly. Even without Aziraphale, the horsemen had been defeated and the missile strike called off thanks to this odd group of scrappy children, a witch, and a witch finder. A pang of sorrow stabbed mercilessly at his heart remembering his dear friend. The small smile didn’t linger long on his face after that.

He had just stuffed his hands in his pockets and begun to turn when he heard the familiar whoosh of atoms rearranging to support the new arrivals. He spun on his heels, panic rising. The air rippled lightly as both the Archangel Gabriel and Beelzebub materialized with a final pop. They locked eyes briefly, clearly caught off guard by the sight of the other, but that hardly stopped them for long. They strode purposefully toward Adam who, until recently, had been smiling and chattering with his friends in celebration. Not even a glance was thrown to Crowley’s stiff figure which, truthfully speaking, was a small relief to the demon.

“You! Young man! You must restart the apocalypse immediately!” Gabriel’s voice boomed and echoed across the air base. Adam’s only response to the verbal onslaught was to stand taller, his face steeling itself as he glared at the two newcomers now towering over him. His friends followed suit, albeit in a slightly less confident manor. Crowley had to hand it to him, the kid was brave. It was abundantly clear that Adam did not intend to resume his antichrist-ing and it wasn’t like they could force the kid to burn his beloved home to a crisp. Free will was, after all, the whole point of humanity (this was a hollow and entirely irrelevant argument as Crowley would soon find out). A rising sense of hilarity settled over Crowley and he set forward approaching the group.

“Now, now everyone let’s just calm down. Maybe we could work this out over tea since the war obviously isn’t happening.” Crowley strode brazenly over to Adam, standing behind him and glaring directly at the odd couple. Beelzebub growled and the flies around their head seemed to settle into a loud, angry buzz while Gabriel’s dark violet eyes flared with the barely repressed power of an archangel. Crowley barely stood his ground, admittedly intimidated by their power.

“Oh I assure you, demon,” Gabriel spat the word with so much fury that Crowley’s hands shook for a moment and he was glad to have kept them tucked inside his pockets. “war is coming and you best be prepared for it.” Just then, the weirdest thing happened. Crowley could’ve sworn he saw Gabriel shoot a quick glance to Beelzebub who nodded slightly as they both turned away and eventually disappeared with a flicker.

Crowley felt fear settle in his stomach. This wasn’t over. Something was coming and it didn’t bode well. He felt himself instinctively reaching out for Azirpahale’s comforting presence but he found nothing which only intensified his dread. All at once, the ground shuddered and lurched alarmingly and a sharp pain pulsed through Crowley’s core. It felt as if thousands of lost souls had roared all at once, which they may very well have. The Earth beneath him heaved sending him sprawling to the concrete. It might have been comical, seeing the demon fall face first into the ground just as he had done to many unassuming businessmen during his extended stay on Earth. Back when everything was fine and his angel was beside him, failing to contain a chuckle and chiding Crowley on his cruel choice of entertainment. But it wasn’t comical and not even a whisper of his angel’s presence was there.

“F-FUCK!” Was all he was really able to stutter while he attempted to stand back up, snakelike pupils narrowed in fear. Looking up, he saw that Adam and his friends had managed to remain standing although they were each clutching at Adam who simply stared stiffly a little ways away as the ground ruptured and a massive red hand shot out. It was then that Crowley realized what was coming. Both he and Adam had recognized this tremor and any moment now they expected Satan to burst through the ground, all manor of hellish flame ready to incinerate the group.

Crowley grunted as he rose abruptly to his feet, throwing his hands into the air in a silent command for the halt of time. Gasping, he shifted awkwardly on the sand now surrounding he and Adam. His wings flared apprehensively as he approached Adam, quickly taking hold of his shoulder. Their eyes met and Crowley was sure that the shock and terror on Adam’s face were reflected in his own. What would Aziraphale do? Adam’s young voice interrupted Crowley’s thoughts.

“What do we do?! Satan is coming and I don’t know if I can stop him!” Adam’s eyebrows knit themselves firmly in a way that an 11 year old should never have to. Crowley took a deep breath trying and, ultimately failing, to quell his anxiety.

“Listen to me,” Crowley steeled his face attempting to appear in control. It really looked more like he had been sucking on a lemon. “Satan is here and you’ve gotta fight back. Thing is, I’m here too. I can lend you my power but we don’t have much time.” What he had meant as inspiration, he realized, didn’t carry with it much faith. That was supposed to be his angel’s job. He was just a demon. Crowley shook that thought from his head. “Here!” Crowley suddenly circled Adam and grasped his small hand tightly. He felt the kid’s demonic power wash over him. Smiling reassuringly down at Adam, who’s face had taken on an arguably more confident look, Crowley let the spell drop and they were back at the air base. Looking up, their eyes met with the flaming red eyes of the lord of darkness. He towered above the group as he growled, voice jarring every soul for miles when he finally spoke.

“What is the meaning of this rebellion?! Son of mine own flesh, do you seek to betray me?!” Adam winced as Satan drew forward, squinting down at he and Crowley.

“Y-you’re not my father!” Adam had let go of Crowley’s hand and stepped closer to Satan, voice stuttering at first but gaining momentum and intensity as he advanced. “You never were!” Adam’s words did indeed seem to be taking effect on the large demon as he withdrew a bit. Crowley would’ve laughed in triumph if he wasn’t still terrified out of his wits.

The moment was short lived. Satan chuckled deeply. The infernal sound rumbled in his throat, instantly wiping any and all courage from the group. The chuckle quickly built into laughter solidifying the mounting despair. Both humans and demon shrank back nervously as Satan leaned forward once more to peer down at the young antichrist before him.

“You who seems to understand so little of your existence dare deny me? I think not.”

“B-but I renounced you!” Adams’s lip quivered slightly.

“Renounced? Unfortunately not. To be of my flesh means you are mine.” And with those words, Adam’s eyes sparked red and all manor of being could feel the infernal energy rolling from him in waves. Satan had seized control and it was clear to Crowley that the apocalypse was never stopped. Simply postponed to be taken up another time.

Crowley quickly stepped forward eyebrows furrowed, confusion written on his features.

“How?! You have now power to do more than influence humanity! What about free will?!”

Satan turned on him, narrowing his eyes in fury.

“Insolent demon! To be of my flesh is to be me incarnate! This boy is no human, not since his coming to power!”

The weight of that realization alone brought Crowley to his knees. Looking up again sapped all his effort and the sight was like a slap in the face. The humans were all laying dazed or unconscious due to the powerful occult energy practically singeing the air. Crowley’s eyes lost focus as the waves became more than even he could withstand. He swayed dangerously finding his arms would not move to aid him. He lay there, the tar below him sizzling where it met skin but he felt nothing. The scene before him dissolved into darkness. Sightless golden eyes gazed out, cloudily reflecting the tragedy before them. A silent requiem for the Earth he had come to treasure.

•—•—•—•—•

Azirpahale stood in terrified awe. All he could do was stare as Earth cracked and crumbled at an alarming rate. The blue of the oceans sizzled and retreated leaving scorching crimson. Blood. He could hear the faint, anguished screams of both humans and animals as their world erupted around them. Then it was silent. The screams cut off abruptly leaving complete silence.

Azirpahale felt tears welling up in his eyes as sadness and disbelief overtook him. Then his thoughts turned to Crowley. He’d abandoned his demon and now he was undoubtedly in pain. He gave out a small whimper as he drew closer to the slowly rotating globe before him, hand reaching shakily toward it.

He felt a firm, heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Gabriel. The grip prevented him from closing the last few inches between his outstretched fingers and the roiling mass of burning rock. Azirpahale turned slowly to meet the archangel’s eyes. He wasn’t surprised to see the stoicism but he was surprised to find a fair amount of sympathy in their depths. Sympathy for Azirpahale.


	2. The Beginnings of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations are made and war begins to break out between Heaven and Hell.

To be caught between a rock and a hard place. Aziraphale hadn’t really thought much about the meaning of such an earthly phrase until now. To his right was the cataclysm he had failed to prevent. To his left, Gabriel had his deep violet eyes trained on Aziraphale. He turned back towards the Earth, his thoughts returning to Crowley. Aziraphale’s fingers twitched and, for a moment, extended to reach out once more but a tightening of the grip on his shoulder forced him to lower his arm. With a shaky sigh, Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped and he slowly turned his eyes back to the archangel.

“Was this all really necessary? I mean, there were so many people, good people...” Aziraphale’s voice died in his throat feeling the sorrow of it all becoming too much for him to bear.

“It was all a part of the Great Plan from the beginning. Humanity only had so much time before it expired on its own. It was inevitable.“ Gabriel’s left hand slowly reached for Aziraphale’s other shoulder, slowly turning Aziraphale so they were facing each other. Soft blue eyes met strong purple ones. “There’s nothing you or anyone could’ve done to stop it.” His words stung but Aziraphale supposed he was right. The burning mass of rock behind him was a testament to that.

“Then... I suppose war will break out any minute?”

“Indeed. It’s finally time for Heaven to reclaim power as was intended from the start. If you’re up for it, we’d appreciate your aid in the battle. After all, you were the Guardian of the Eastern Gate.” Gabriel smiled reassuringly, showing a bit too much and betraying his genuine excitement. “For what it’s worth Aziraphale, I’m glad you finally saw reason and returned to us.” He gave the principality a final pat on the shoulder, turned on his heels, and marched off yelling orders and resuming battle preparations.

Aziraphale wasn’t given much time to grieve or even think before he was swept up in the preparations as well. Somewhere along the way, his clothes had changed from his comfortable tartan ensemble to a flowing white uniform laced with gold and fitted with slits to accommodate his large wings which had rematerialized. A braided belt flecked with gold hung snuggly around his waist storing a few small ornate glass bottles of holy water and a sword. They really were going to war with the demons.

After a while, it finally began to settle in his mind that this was, in fact, real although that did not mean he was used to it. He suspected he would never truly be used to it as he fingered the hilt of his sword gingerly and wished for one of Crowley’s sarcastic one-liners. If there was even the slightest chance the demon was still alive, Aziraphale had to find him. Attempting to stop armageddon would mean he had made enemies of both Heaven and Hell, making escape from punishment virtually impossible. He hoped he wouldn’t be too late this time.

Aziraphale was ushered quickly into line beside angels in matching uniforms. A seraph was busy pacing before them, ramrod straight, arms folded behind him chanting support which echoed back at him in the form of celestial harmonies. The air rippled as wings materialized, magic was invoked, and prayers filled the space. Aziraphale felt his soul clench as it all built to a crescendo. All as one, the heavenly hosts took off, bursting from the thick clouds to meet the demonic forces rising from below, drawing their weapons and uncorking bottles. Aziraphale hung back and his breath hitched as the two forces finally clashed. Blessed steel sparked along cursed iron and hell flame smoked maliciously as holy water doused it. Screams, both of pain and of triumph, erupted through the burnt atmosphere. All the lone principality could think was how terrible it all was. The Earth and all its occupants which he had grown to love had been made to suffer so that these two forces could settle their differences with more bloodshed. Any tears that may have spilled from his eyes evaporated almost instantly, stealing even his effort of mourning.

•—•—•—•—•

A dark figure slouched against the far wall of the cell, unmoving. Not that he could move. Crowley’s last memory had been of laying on the hot ground as the Earth burned around him. Now he was here, wherever here was, trying to connect the dots in his foggy mind. He gave a tense huff of annoyance as his memory, once again, drew a blank. Now he had a headache.

He was gradually regaining the feeling in his limbs which currently felt heavier than lead pipes. That tends to happen when you’ve been discorporated after spending so long in a human body he reasoned. He had attempted to shift from his slightly uncomfortable position but the only reward for his efforts came in the form of a small twitch in his left thumb. Entirely unhelpful.

His attention turned instead to his dimly lit surroundings and all he could say for sure was that this was not where discorporated demons usually went. Although light was scarce, millennia of wandering hell’s halls had sharpened Crowley’s vision significantly. His serpentine eyes focused and he could make out the outline of a door, firmly shut, on the wall opposite him. There didn’t seem to be anyone or anything else besides Crowley in the room which both relieved and terrified him. This was Hell, no doubt about it. The filthy walls and dark, oppressing atmosphere all checked out. He just didn’t know where in Hell this was.

It felt like an eternity, sitting in the silence waiting for his body to regain any semblance of its usual strength. He wished for a distraction, anything that would relieve the boredom and, more importantly, the fear beginning to coil itself around his mind.

A few hours prior, (though time was an earthy concept, old habits died hard) a feeling of being summoned had clawed its way into his being. The ache of the spell had been growing steadily as he refused to answer the call. His motor functions were just about back to normal, enough for him to begin pacing nervously, but that didn’t change the fact that he was trapped in this cell. He had assumed that the summons was a rally cry, one that would gather every demon in Hell and prepare them for battle against Heaven. Casting his thoughts to Heaven revived a maelstrom of emotions. His angel had abandoned him after all. He had really believed that Aziraphale had come to see reason. That Heaven and Hell sought to destroy billions of years of beauty and ingenuity over a — a bloody contest! The feeling of rejection was enough to still the demon from his pacing. He curled up against the wall once more, refusing to let his silent tears be seen.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. I’m working on the next one currently and it should be up relatively soon.


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